


At a Glance

by Zombiiewrites



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - Stripper/Exotic Dancer, Human Castiel, M/M, Stripper Dean
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-05-28
Updated: 2014-05-30
Packaged: 2018-01-26 21:11:01
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 5,138
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1702655
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Zombiiewrites/pseuds/Zombiiewrites
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Between the blaring music, flashing lights, and sweating bodies, Castiel makes an unexpected connection.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Prelude 12/21

The harsh bass blaring through the speakers vibrated throughout the club in a steady, rhythmic pattern. The overhead oscillating lights rolled with the beat of the music, filtering through the dense vapor to create a brilliant display of multicolored orbs against the walls and swaying, hard bodies of the dancers. 

"I can’t believe you dragged me to a strip club," Castiel grumbled, shooting his brother a glare as he was led down a ramp towards the main stage. 

"Oh my god. Such a drama queen, Cas. This is supposed to be one of the classy ones. Loosen up!" Gabriel replied, stringing him along and practically shoving him into a seat once they found a vacant spot right up front. 

"Classy? It reeks of axe body spray and daddy issues," Cas retorted, crossing his arms over his chest and eyeing his brother with a bored expression. 

"Is Cassie already being a prude?" A disembodied, yet familiar voice chimed from behind. Balthazar grinned toothily and pulled up the seat on the other side of the agitated brunette, already nursing a gin and tonic. 

"I wouldn’t say ‘prude’. He’s definitely being a dick, though," Gabe answered, lips curling into a smirk at the sound of Castiel’s frustrated groan. "Fucking teachers—I swear. Buzzkills galore!" Gabriel continued, flagging down one of the scantily clad bartenders. 

"Hey! I’m not the one complaining. Don’t loop me in with him," Balthazar insisted, poking fun at his colleague and flashing a mile when Castiel narrowed his eyes at him. "Cassie, the first day of the semester is a joke anyways. Go over the syllabus, pretend to care about all of the seniors on the waitlist begging to be in your class, etcetera, etcetera. Don’t try and be the hero, Jaime Escalante," Balthazar let out, propelling his argument with animated hand gestures and a monotone voice to distinguish how procedural it all was. 

Cas snorted at that last bit, unable to suppress his smile despite his efforts. Predictably, Gabriel and Balthazar spent the rest of the evening chipping away at the first sign of weakness through poorly executed jokes and copious amounts of alcohol. 

By the time the third dancer was announced, Castiel’s head was swimming. Suddenly, he was drumming his fingers against the bar to the previously earsplitting music and losing himself under the warmth of the lights. Gabriel and Balthazar were supplying the booze and what started as a couple beers had somehow turned into several Irish car bombs. 

_"Alright, gentlemen! You have all been so patient tonight—I think you deserve a treat. Please focus your attention and hard earned dollars to the main stage and welcome the fan favorite, making a rare Sunday night appearance, Cain!"_

 

The DJ dragged out the syllables of the dancer’s name, fluctuating the pitch of his voice some before cutting out the mic and starting the song.

Sober Castiel would have thought what he was seeing was downright ridiculous—a grown man as gorgeous as the one in front of him, stuffed into a pair of tight, boyshort panties strutting down the catwalk to  _Pour Some Sugar On_   _Me_ —but drunk Castiel was all for it. He wasn’t nearly as vocal as his brother or fellow professor, both of whom were blitzed out of their minds, but the way he was staring said more than he could ever put into words. 

He eyed the stripper with a captivated gaze, taking in everything from the those hardened, green eyes to what he now considered to be the best ass he’d ever seen in his life. 

There had been other performers on before but there was something different about this one. While Castiel stuttered over trying to decipher what, the dancer advanced towards their end of the stage. He was so playful, endearing, and sexy all at the same time. Like trying to catch a mirage out of the corner of your eye, it was impossible to pinpoint how he managed to carry himself in such a manner but for whatever reason it suited him and  _boy,_ could he work it. 

He wore a deep rooted smirk on his face the entire time; it didn’t look forced by any means. In fact, he looked like he was enjoying himself. Singles and five dollar bills littered the stage in no time. Every tip had the dancer growing bolder and bolder, stepping in tune with the classic rock still powering through the speakers and tossing his head back and forth during the instrumental parts. Although his dance was obviously well choreographed, he performed each move with equal enthusiasm. 

Once he reached the end of the stage where Castiel was conveniently seated, he caught sight of the blue-eyed beauty and grinned a little wider. A few feet short of the edge, he lowered himself onto all fours and quite literally  _crawled_ his way to Castiel, who at that point was staring at him slack jawed and bordering on a vegetative state. 

"Hey," Dean breathed out simply, voice penetrating and deep but softened by the flirtatious smile resting on his thin lips. 

An internal thought of,  _'jesus fucking christ,'_ was all Castiel could muster immediately. He made a mental note to pat himself on the back later for not saying it aloud and continued to gawk at the dancer. “Hi,” he managed to get out, exhibiting a somewhat bashful smile. 

Dean laughed charmingly and lowered himself near the stage before rolling onto his back effortlessly and gazing up at the brunette upside down through heavy lashes, craning his neck back enticingly just enough to expose his prominent Adam’s apple. 

"Looks like Cassie made a friend," Balthazar acknowledged, nodding towards Gabriel and grinning when the elder Novak slipped his brother a twenty dollar bill under the table. 

"I don’t know why he’s being shy. You should hear some of the stuff that comes out of this guy’s mout—" Gabriel’s sentence was abruptly cut off by a harsh elbow to the ribs, courtesy of Castiel. 

Dean just laughed in response, taking it upon himself to coax this  _Cassie_ fellow out of his shell by enticing him further. Still wearing that irresistible smile, he slowly dragged himself back up, using only the power in his thighs, and sat back on his heels. He looked over his shoulder, sporting a subtle pout, and stuck his backside out further while stretching his arms over his head and swaying his hips a few times in sync with the next song. 

When  _Cherry Pie_  started playing, Castiel wouldn’t have noticed the clever pronoun manipulation from  _she’s_ to  _he’s_ had Balthazar not acknowledged it in the background noise; he was too fixated on that unforgivably sexy curve of the dancer’s back and the adorable, little dimples settled above the waistband of his panties. He had to bite his lip when Dean slowly started to pull himself up, concentrating most of his strength in his legs until he was standing again. 

His freckled skin glistened beneath the stage lights, muscles shadowed and exaggerated by flashing LEDs at the corners of the walkway. He distanced himself briefly to work the rest of the crowd on the outskirts but found himself drawn back to the trio in no time, seamlessly scooping up the dollar bills along the way while still managing to look downright edible.

The song was coming to an end by the time he reached Castiel again but by that point, Cas was one shot deeper and coursing with liquid courage. Dean could sense it, not only from the way he smirked back this time but from the predatory glint in his brilliant eyes. He licked his lips knowingly and took another step towards the edge of the elongated stage before trailing a hand down the center of his own chest, body swaying with the song all the while. 

He took his lower lip between his teeth and delicately tugged at the waistband of his underwear to expose more of the prominent V of his hip bones before looking back down at Castiel and raising his eyebrows suggestively. 

Castiel eyed him right back, raising from his seat casually before leaning forward and grazing the edge of the twenty dollar bill across Dean’s treasure trail. He grinned at the close proximity and the goosebumps that surfaced along the dancer’s arms along with the almost unseen twitch of his cock as his warm breath seeped in through the thin material of his panties. Without breaking eye contact, Cas tucked the bill under his waistband and huffed out a laugh when Dean winked and wordlessly turned to make his way back, disappearing behind the curtain just as the song faded into the go-to background music. 

The next morning, Castiel woke up with a pounding headache and a severe case of “The Mondays.” The Asprin-coffee cocktail got him through the commute to campus but by the time he walked into his first class of the day, he was about ready to send in his resignation letter to the Dean. 

"Good morning, class," he let out, trying not to sound too exhausted as he made his way down the steps of the auditorium style lecture hall. "I know you’re all probably thrilled to be here this early," he sighed sarcastically, earning a couple of laughs, and grabbed the dry erase marker to scribble the class number along with his name.

"Welcome to Human Resources three o’ one. My name is Professor Novak and I’ll be your teacher," he finished, finally turning to face the class. 

It wasn’t until he was met with a familiar pair of green eyes that his confident professor facade faltered and the color in his face seemed to drain. Images from the previous night flashed in his mind and suddenly he couldn’t decipher what was making him feel more sick—that last tequila shot Gabriel had convinced him to take, the fact that he had slipped a twenty into the waistband of one of his student’s underwear, or that said student was carelessly munching on a piece of bubblegum and smirking right back at him. 


	2. Kiss and Control

Chapter 2: Kiss and Control

_'Cassie, the first day of the semester is a joke, anyways. Go over the syllabus, pretend to care about all of the seniors on the waitlist begging to be in your class, etcetera, etcetera.'_

Balthazar's advice echoed in his head as he cleared his throat and abruptly averted his gaze from his students. He looked over the binder containing the schedule he had prepared for the first day of class and sighed defeatedly, ultimately closing it and conceding to the ghost of his colleague's words. 

"We're going to go ahead and go over the syllabus. From there, I'll take any questions you might have about the content, and we'll end class a little early today. Sound good?" Castiel addressed, a small smile gracing his lips at the sound of the relieved sighs that sounded throughout the auditorium along with the vocal responses from some of the bolder students.

He supposed it wouldn't hurt to start off the semester as the "cool teacher" for once. 

Castiel successfully managed to avoid any and all contact with the student he had...acquainted himself with the previous night. He powered through attendance, where he had learned the young man's true name--Dean Winchester--and the syllabus within the hour, explaining everything from the basic curriculum and his grading system to his policies regarding cell phones and web browsing during class.   _  
_

As promised, he took some questions from the class afterwards--most of which were, as Balthazar had predicted, in respect to waitlist enrollment. However, just when he considered throwing in the towel and dismissing the group, another hand shot up. Naturally, it belonged to Dean "Cherry Pie" Winchester. Reluctantly, Castiel acknowledged him with a lazy point of his finger and a nod. 

"Can you tell us some stuff about you? Sometimes it helps the students...relate better to the class when they know a little about their instructors," Dean let out, still wearing a smile as he folded his hands together atop the half desk and leaned forward. 

Castiel's composure faltered once again at the sound of the question, his discomfort revealing itself as a subtle stutter and an annoyed sigh. "I-I suppose," he answered carefully, willing his right eye to stop twitching when he saw that Dean's question had visibly sparked the interest of several of the other students as well. Choosing to avoid the question would be contradictory to the course since a good majority of the content was based on leadership and recognizing personality traits within a business. 

"I graduated from Stanford University with a Bachelors in Communications and once I realized that wasn't going to get me anywhere, I went on to get my Masters in Business," he paused to smile at his own expense when a couple students chuckled before continuing. "I've been working here for almost three years, teaching everything from speech to management courses. Is that sufficient, Mr. Winchester?" Castiel asked, his voice teetering between playful and annoyed. 

"Well, all that's peachy but it sort of makes you sound like a robot. I meant more in the sense of...what you do outside of school--you know, for fun! Ball games? Bible Study? Color Me Mine? Strip Clubs?" Dean pressed, stifling his own laughter when Castiel's face turned a deep shade of red at his last example. Fortunately, most of the class was too busy laughing from the example itself to pay much attention to their instructor's obvious embarrassment.

Castiel was quick to recover, playing it off by chuckling lowly along with the rest of his class and crossing his arms over his chest casually while leaning back against his desk. His posture said  _'I'm fine'_ but his eyes said,  _'I am going to fucking choke you.'_

"For fun, huh?" He paused thoughtfully and tapped his fingers of his opposing hand against his elbow. "I like Color Me Mine as much as the next guy but as far as what I like...beer tasting at some of the local breweries, blues shows at Portfolios, reading, writing, boring stuff," Cas concluded, signifying that he was done answering questions by straightening himself up and clapping his hands together once. 

With that, he dismissed the class as a whole and seated himself at his desk. He watched as they all stood almost in unison, shoveling their textbooks and notebooks into their backpacks and talking among themselves while filing towards the door at the top of the stairs. 

"Mr. Winchester," he called, not looking up from what he was scribbling down but beckoning the student with two fingers nonetheless. 

He knew if he didn't nip this in the bud now, things would get out of control. He needed to be the bigger man, acknowledge what happened, and make sure they had a professional understanding. At least, that was how it was supposed to play out. 

Cas waited until the door shut behind the last student before lifting his eyes from his planner and focusing his attention on the green-eyed troublemaker smiling down at him. 

"Hey there, Cassie," Dean breathed, his expression bursting with pride and playfulness. 

Castiel shut his mouth promptly at the nickname and eyed the younger man with a threatening stare. "That's exactly what I wanted to talk to you about," Cas sighed, pushing away from the desk and standing. "Obviously, I had no idea you were a student here, much less a student enrolled in my class," he started, maintaining eye contact to further display his concern.

"What happened last night was extremely inappropriate considering the circumstances. If you don't feel comfortable, I would be more than willing to assist you in transferring into another HRM course with a different instructor," Castiel offered. 

Dean humored Castiel while he delivered his spiel, preserving a neutral appearance throughout--lips pursed and eyes unyielding. "Do I look uncomfortable?" Dean practically snorted when he was finished, adjusting the strap of the backpack hanging off of one of his shoulders. 

"Well, if you choose to stay in my class, I need to make it clear, now--I am not going to provide you with any special treatment or--" 

"Hey, I didn't ask for a handout," Dean interrupted, eyes squinting and voice lowering defensively. 

Castiel paused, realizing he had not chosen his words as carefully as he'd hoped. Sighing, he slid a hand through his messy, brown hair and reevaluated his approach. "You're right. I apologize. This is just..." he trailed off, unsure of how to phrase the situation they were in.

"...hot?" Dean suggested, wearing that damn smirk again. He was quick to forgive, especially after watching Castiel struggling and trying to make things right; he knew the instructor was only trying to accommodate. 

"Not exactly the word I would've used," Cas replied, pinching the bridge of his nose and shielding his smile from Dean's overbearing gaze. 

"You're overthinking things," Dean let out, the tone of his voice shifting to something more sympathetic and sultry. "I'm an adult. You're an adult," he continued, sneakers squeaking against the tile as he rounded the desk and peered up at his professor, "if I say I can balance my studies with my job, without any exclusive aid or repercussions on your part, I don't see why we can't enjoy ourselves."

Castiel trailed the youth cautiously, licking his lips when Dean had him cornered against the desk. His eyes flickered from those pink lips as he spoke, only returning to his eyes when they were separated by mere inches. As if Dean sensed his integrity beginning to dither, he mitigated the space between them further and let their lips brush together.

"Last night was refreshing. I'd make it worth your while if you came to see me again," Dean whispered persuasively. 

Castiel breathed deep, the distinct aroma of Spearmint filling his nostrils, and gulped heavily while continuing to watch Dean through hooded eyes. Every fiber in his being told him to stop--to cut this out and cut him off--but he couldn't bring himself to reject the other's advances. 

Cas was the one who ultimately closed the remaining distance between them, crushing his lips against Dean's and gathering the material of his shirt in both hands to hoist him forward. The fact that he could feel the little bastard smiling into the kiss didn't stop him from deepening it with a subtle tilt of his head and a graze of his tongue. 

"I'll take that as a yes," Dean grinned as they parted, stealing another chaste kiss before stepping back and pulling his backpack up again. 

"Don't forget to read chapters one and two," Cas reminded in a warning tone as though that would ease some of the uncertainty brewing in his chest.

"What? You going to quiz me while I'm giving you a lap dance?" Dean retorted with a huffed laugh as he started towards the exit.

"And don't chew gum in my class," Castiel shouted just as Dean crossed the threshold, smiling when he caught the tail end of his laugh before the door shut. 

This was going to be a long semester. 


	3. Catch A Hot One

Castiel sunk further into the ivory cushions bracketing his back, blue eyes raking up slowly to take in everything and anything that was Dean Winchester: bowed legs, thick thighs, hard package stuffed into unbelievably tight briefs, washboard stomach indented with lean muscle, lips idling in a pout, and those eyes--squinted and vibrant. 

"Like what you see, Professor?" Dean bantered, lips lifted at one corner and eyebrows arched depravedly. 

"Stop calling me that," Castiel insisted with a roll of his eyes. He raised the edge of the glass to his mouth and sucked down the contents before placing it on the end table and resting his arms along the back of the couch. 

"You like it," Dean retorted, padding across the dimly lit room towards Cas. He stood at his feet momentarily before casually sliding into his lap and planting his knees into the cushions on either side of his hips. "You like the respect, the authority," he paused to let his warm breath coast over Cas' earlobe, "the power." 

"Perceptive, little thing, aren't you? Why don't you find out what else I like?" Castiel grunted patronizingly, craning his neck back to rest between his shoulders and peering up at Dean through hooded eyes.

Dean just grinned wider, seizing the opportunity to knock the other man down a peg by circling his hips. The delicious friction from the simple motion earned him a breathless grunt and an equally breathless smile. 

"That's a good start," Castiel encouraged, keeping his hands spread over the length of the couch.

"Feels like it's more than a  _good_ start," Dean replied with another roll of his hips, eager to evoke more of those blissful noises from his client's lips. He bit his lip at the feeling of Castiel's half hard cock pressing up against his backside as it strained against his slacks, but refused to set a rhythm--not yet.

"You think about this during class, Professor?" Dean asked, voice husky and thick with curiosity. They had agreed to keep work and play separate--Castiel's idea--but that never stopped Dean from creating scenarios. "You think about me standing between you and your desk and straddling your lap? Grinding against your cock?" He dragged his hands down the other's chest and punctuated his question with a firm sway of his hips. 

When Cas grunted back in response and parted his lips, Dean smirked and leaned in close enough to smell the whiskey on his breath. "Mm, no. That's too vanilla for you, huh? You're kinky, aren't you, Cassie?" He continued, soothing the wrinkles he'd created on Castiel's button up. 

Save for the eye twitch, Castiel made no effort to protest to Dean's accusations; like a desperate trout, he just took the bait.

"You want me to fail a test, right? Fail a test and come begging so you can punish me for not holding up my end of the deal, right?" Dean's lips grazed across the professor's exposed Adam's apple while skilled fingers popped open the first couple buttons of his dress shirt. "Make me pull my pants down, force me over your lap by the hair, and smack my ass till it's raw and red and I'm fucking sobbing for it, right, Mr. Novak?" Dean tightened his grip, gathering the fabric between his fingers, and ground their hips together again. This time he didn't stop; he just stirred and rocked in his lap, slow and composed.

Sensing Castiel's composure beginning to give way, Dean pressed on both verbally and physically. "Wanna' bend me over that desk and fuck me speechless, huh?" He circled his hips faster and carded a hand through Castiel's hair, urging the brunette's head back. Dean plastered on some innocent looking expression: lower lip between his teeth and eyebrows sloped so pathetically. "Fucking hold me down by the back of my neck and pound into me until I'm begging for you to come all over my face? Yeah? That what you want, baby?" Dean practically whined, one hand clasped around Castiel's bicep and the other still tangled in his hair. 

"Fucking Christ, Dean," Cas finally responded, his voice completely wrecked and his cock pulsating violently as Dean continued to swirl his hips. It took every bit of willpower to keep his hands to himself but there were certain policies he had to obey. Despite their relationship outside of the club, the rules within were strict with 'no touching of the dancers'being at the top of the list. 

Dean grinned at his little victory and steadied himself on the cushions before carefully lifting onto his knees and arching his back. "You need another drink," he acknowledged, sliding his fingers through his coarse hair before withdrawing and seamlessly easing off of his lap. 

Castiel gulped and fell back against the couch with a huff once Dean was back on his feet. He watched with a relaxed stare as the youth snatched the glass from the table and crossed the room again to rummage through the modest minibar in against the far wall. Cas nudged his clothed cock with the heel of his palm when Dean bent over, humming appreciatively at the sight of that flawless, freckled backside, bare save for that pesky underwear. 

His attention shifted at the sound of ice being dropped into the glass, sapphire eyes raising in time to watch Dean pour his drink.

"You want music?" Dean asked, casually. 

"Whatever gets you over here quicker," Castiel replied, voice still thick with lust. He found himself smiling contagiously when he caught the slight upturn of Dean's lips and that deflated laugh. 

Soon enough, Dean was sauntering back. He flipped on the stereo on the way over and immediately started stepping in tune with the unique yet familiar beat. 

"What is this?" Castiel half laughed, taking the glass when it was offered to him and squinting in confusion, "is this...is this B.B. King?" 

"You said you like blues, right?" Dean reminded, prompting a quick flashback to the first day of class. 

Before Cas could really evaluate the thought that went into Dean's planning, those damn hips were moving again. He'd never imagined  _The Thrill Is Gone_ to be much of a dance song--much less a stripping song--but Dean was showing him he was wrong. Dead wrong. 

"I wasn't sure about it at first, to be honest, but then I started listening...you know,  _really_ listening," Dean explained quietly, trailing his fingertips along Cas' jaw, "and with a little tweaking it just sort of came together." Smirking, he ran his thumb across his instructor's lower lip and pulled away. 

It was at that moment--somewhere between the first bend of his knees and the steady climb back up--that Castiel realized just how dangerous Dean Winchester was.

He lost himself some where amid the clean remix and the lazy sweeps of Dean's hips. The steady patter of the drum and the silenced wail of the electric guitar flowing from the stereo warmed his ears and the reposed rhythm went down almost as smooth as the whiskey. It was truly a sight to behold: Dean twisting and swirling those godforsaken hips in such beautiful synchronicity; it was as though the beat and lyrics themselves were stringing him along.

Castiel melted into the cushions, breathing deep as he raised the glass to his lips again. He traced over the constellation of freckles on Dean's back, stifling a groan when the dancer rolled his shoulders back and arched. When Dean's hands started to descend, fingertips grazing his ribs and waist along the way and thumbs hooking into the waistband of his panties, Cas sunk his teeth into his lower lip. 

Dean smiled, eyes closed peacefully, and marveled in the attention. Even with his back turned, he could feel Castiel's gaze on him and knowing that he was responsible for those subdued hums--knowing he was the reason Castiel was palming himself through his slacks--made him want to work that much harder. 

He eased the fabric down just barely and pressed his thighs together while dipping and swirling, only to ease back up and repeat the action. "Is this good for you, baby?" Dean asked, continuing to nudge the offending article of clothing down further and further. 

"So good," was all Castiel could muster, sapphire eyes still burning into the flawless curve of his spine. When Dean snapped the elastic against his the tops of his thighs, finally exposing that perfect backside of his in full, Cas huffed. 

Eager to elicit more of those suppressed sounds, Dean grinned and reached back to grope at the fleshy globes of his backside, kneading and spreading them shamelessly. 

"Oh fuck," Castiel groaned, nearly choking at the sight of Dean's tight, little hole--so pink and puffy. 

"You like eating ass, baby?" Dean let out abruptly, slowly sliding onto his knees and digging his fingernails into the supple mounds again. "I bet you're good at it, too," he sighed, dragging a single finger up the cleft of his ass and over his hole. Dean hummed this time, rocking back against his hands a while longer and knocking his head from side to side languidly. 

Fortunately--or unfortunately depending on how one looked at it--the torturous teasing eventually came to an end along with the song. It wasn't until Dean was facing him again and plucking an ice cube from his now empty glass that Castiel came back down to Earth. 

"That was fun," Dean informed, grinning playfully and wrapping his lips around the partially melted ice cube. It tempered against his hot tongue in a matter of seconds but before it could disappear entirely, he leaned forward and cupped Castiel's flushed face.

Humming, he pushed what was left of the ice passed Castiel's lips and slid their tongues together roughly, unyielding until both their mouths were left chilled and wet. Their eyes locked again briefly as they parted, whiskey scented breaths between them, but Dean ultimately pulled away first.

"You want another one or you good?" He asked, plucking the tumbler from Castiel's hand. 

Cas shook his head quickly and held his hand up, not realizing that he was still gazing up at Dean like he was his universe. Luckily, he managed to snap himself out of it sooner than later--grounded by a disembodied voice and a knock at the door. 

"Alistair needs to see you, sugar," the voice alerted, masculine and deep with a distinct southern drawl. 

The look of minor panic on Dean's face did not go unnoticed by Castiel but it did go unacknowledged. He was quick to play it off with a fake smile and a scripted response. "Yeah, I'll be right out," Dean replied, sliding a hand through his hair and looking down at the floor briefly as if trying to get his bearings.Fortunately, Castiel saved him the trouble of having to sum up the damage.

Looking much more put together and decent, Cas stood from the couch and slipped a few bills into Dean's palm as he passed him before grabbing his suitcase near the door. 

"It was only two hundred," Dean protested, his voice teetering on the edge of confused and offended. 

"I know," Cas replied simply, opening the door. "See you Monday, Winchester," he added before stepping out of the room. He exchanged glances with a burly looking man in the hall, easily recognizing him as the bouncer on account of the all black suit and earpiece, and brushed passed him wordlessly before making his way out of the club altogether. 

That night, Castiel fell asleep to another fifth of whiskey and  _The Thrill is Gone_ on repeat. 


End file.
